Fear in the Digital Age

I wanted to discuss Google's power, without overreacting, because I remain uncertain why they are moving my domain from WHOIS. I am intelligent, but don't quite grasp why Blogger's upgrade means I'm being exported; it is either procedural, or some sort of majority flagging is going on. I don't understand the email and never succeeded in getting anything made clear in their forums, and have a week to try to get a live representative to explain things to me. Perhaps it just isn't worth the head winds. Maybe getting familiar on Yabberz had something to do with it, but I cannot know that, even if I ask. It wouldn't achieve anything, but the time and energy I've spent putting my soul into this account is all I have, whether it appalls viewers or ignites pity, or occasional appreciation, this is it, and forcing me to make it a personal account no one sees except by request is pointless, regardless of who has been embarrassed.

(Apparently nothing untoward happened, but I still don't get it, as my twitter account is still secured on a WHOIS platform.) It also isn't fair that Google may be earning money on my posts but cannot make re-mometization simpler for me as a disadvantaged woman over 50, even if you might say I have other platform choices.)

I am going to die soon. My body can't take the stress, regardless of corporate unease, and leaving this human stain is necessary, even if I understand the monopolistic gravitation toward moderation which my mettle won't obey, since mortality overtaking us creates urgency. I've become blunter, without going so far as to try to draw Trump's supporters to my advantage. If I cannot get justice for the cruelty of my life, I intend to go down fighting. One year, Marie said, "you belong in the street!" Because I don't let up. 23 year old university students shouldn't be trapped in section 202 housing for life simply due to the fact that they are power chair users who never guite solved the commute issue. I hate Presbyterian Homes, and by extension, the whole 202 system. When Denny O'Brien advocates the virtue of yoga classes, how the holy fuck am I supposed to enter into that? To make a grievance threadbare, Liberty Resources and Linda Dezenski were my segregated family, as was the dying gargoyle on the eighth floor.

My mother, ten years ago, maybe more, asked why I couldn't just live my life. There is nothing left of it to live.